Soliloquy
by Christi Talmer
Summary: Quatre's having trouble adjusting to his new life, and turns to the pen and paper for assistance. Deathfic. Quite depressing.


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::disclaimer::

Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise and the Sotsu Agency. I claim no ownership; no trademark infringement is intended in the publication of this piece of fiction. The passage is Sonnet LXXI, by William Shakespeare.

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No longer mourn for me when i am dead

Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that i am fled

From this vile world, with vilest worms

to dwell:

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for i love you so,

That n your sweet thoughts i would be forgot,

If thinking on me should make you woe.

O, if you look upon this verse

When i perhaps compounded am with clay,

Do not so much my poor name rehearse;

But let your love even with my life decay:

Lest the wise world should look into your moan,

And mock you with me after i am gone.

~William Shakespare

I never truly believed I would be sitting here, writing this right now...well, I suppose that isn't really true. You convinced me I would never be sitting here writing this. Not that I'm blaming any of you, for any of this. Perhaps I had better start at the beginning. 

You all know my story; most of it is yours as well. We fought hard in those times, would have (and almost did) willingly give our lives many times over to attain peace. Well. Now we have it...what have we done with it so far? I'd venture a guess that you all thought I would be the best adjusted; am I right? Quatre, heir to the Winner fortune and ray of sunshine extraordinaire. It's funny how little ironies like that that make life interesting, I suppose. At first, there was rebuilding to keep us all busy, and those were hopeful times anyway. Then the company...but admit it, I'm no businessman. Iria is already managing most of Winner Enterprises herself. So that leaves me here, with a lot of time to do some thinking. During that time, I've realized one thing.

Even though I've preached pacifism all these years, it seems that another cruel irony is in store.

I don't know how to live in these times of peace.

You've all adjusted beautifully; Heero, Relena's so proud of you. You're truly a lucky man. The same goes for you and Hilde, Duo, and you're twice the entrepreneur I'll ever be. Though you surprised me somewhat, Wufei, you and Sally look ecstatically happy together as well. And Trowa...Catherine is an amazing woman. There's little more for me to say, save that. Meanwhile, I...well, I'm not sure how to phrase this without sounding pitiful. I just don't seem to have much of anywhere to fit in. My sisters run the company for me, and there's precious little else that I know how to do. The number of skills I can actually use shrinks even farther when you consider the 'no weapons' ideals the Congress has adopted. There's just nothing I can do anymore. That alone wouldn't be unbearable, but recently, some...things have been happening to me.

It all started with the nightmares, I think. A few months ago, I had the first one...I woke up screaming and covered in sweat. That night, and a few others, Rashid and some of the servants have come in armed with whatever they could grab, and talked me down, but of course they didn't catch me every night. The dreams got worse with each one I had. Once, I woke up with cuts all over my hands...I had grabbed a letter opener in my trance and was in the process of slicing open my left thumb when I woke up. The next morning, I credited it to a glass I broke in my room. Somehow I forgot the part about how it broke...I dropped it, I was shaking so hard. From that point on, every single time I slept my life became hell. All seven levels I'm sure I've visited at least once...but I covered it all up. Don't worry about not catching any of it. I was so embarrassed, I was certain everyone would leave if they though their employer was going insane. So I lied, sneaked, and deceived my way through the questions. Tried to not sleep when I could get away with it. Tried not to eat, 'cause I would remember the horrible images and heave until there was nothing left except the pictures. Finally, it's gotten to be too noticeable. No amount of lies would cover what's happened to me now, so I've stayed in my room for the past two days. Credited it to a 'project' I was working on; I've yet to figure out what it is. One way or another, though, I suppose it won't make much difference. 

I apologize for the ink blot there...I just looked at my mirror. My reflection's more than a little disturbing...dark circles are under my eyes, and they look bloodshot. I can't imagine why...perhaps I was crying in one of my nightmares. My skin...when did I become so wan? My face is gaunt; I feel like I'm looking at a ghost. Which I might well be. I haven't talked to a soul since my self-exile. My hands...feather-light marks mar the palms, fingers and wrists...the first bad dream seems to be the one I have most often. The newest ones, a bare week old, are just now beginning to fade. I feel different now...not bad, necessarily, but very different. Older. Weaker.

Have you wondered yet why I'm writing this? Well, I'll let you know...I've wondered the same thing. Where do I go from here? What will I do? Truly, I don't know yet. I just know that I can't stand anymore of the nightmares. Can you imagine what I see? Well, I suppose you could. I see blood. Death. Innocent people, lying dead in the streets because we miscalculated. Because we attacked. Because we were correct in our estimates. Or sometimes, you...Heero, falling from Wing and not getting up again...Duo dying with a grin on his face and Shinigami on his lips...Wufei, you running out of time and luck and falling at Treize's hand...or you, Trowa, dying in any number of ways. It's a staggering thing to wake up to.

So...those are my explanations. I think I've finished this letter...next order of business will be to go play my violin. Though I don't know if you'll ever get it, know that you all have been my dearest friends. I wish you nothing but the best of luck. Thank you for everything.

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Quatre Raberba Winner

"Master Quatre's up!" Rashid whispered hoarsely, hearing the violin being tuned. "Thank Allah! He hasn't made a sound nor left his room in days!" The young man, his inspection complete, began to play in earnest now, and the servants quieted. The piece they heard being played was the single saddest thing anyone had ever heard Master Quatre play. It sounded as it the violin itself was wailing, mourning for some unseen thing. Though he was glad to hear his young friend up and about, Rashid suddenly found himself wishing for the silence again. 

Three hours later, his wish was granted.

The bow was pulled across the strings of Quatre's beloved violin once more, adding a soul-rending finish to his performance. It struck a chord in the hearts of all who heard it, and there was more than one man who felt a sudden, strong urge to sob. The note slowly faded into nothingness, and the instrument slipped softly from limp fingers. All was calm once more, the night never to be disturbed again by the silent screams and keening wails of a mourning violin and its master.

~owari~


End file.
